


Buttercups

by Crollalanza



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, Introspection, M/M, Summer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-13 09:46:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7972342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crollalanza/pseuds/Crollalanza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kenma feels different. His world is changing and he's not altogether sure it's for the better, but there's a warmth inside of him that flares up whenever Shouyou smiles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Buttercups

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bibbidibobbididette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bibbidibobbididette/gifts).



> This was written for the beautiful Pixie for her birthday. Pixie reminds me a lot of Hinata because she's full of sunshine and makes everybody feel better about themselves.

Despite the sunny haze of the day, it was with a slouch and not a skip that Kenma stepped off the train. It wasn’t that he was unhappy, in fact the way his stomach was squirming, he felt excitement more than anything, it was just that he knew anticipatory glows had a nasty habit of dulling in front of his eyes, clarity turning to mist.

With his bag over his shoulder, he checked his phone for any last minute message (there wasn’t one) then dragged his eyes up, checking the heads of the people waiting at the barrier. For one moment he was seized by the fear that he’d been forgotten, or that this was all some dreadful mistake and he shouldn’t be here, because the faces _out there_ were unknown and clearly not for him.

And there was also this small shudder of relief because if no one was there, then he couldn’t be disappointed. (He momentarily deliberated crossing the platform to make the return journey three days early, but dismissed that as impractical - his phone was already low on power and his DS had already drained the power from his mobile charger.)

_What if he’s changed?_

_Maybe I have?_

The last time Kuro had seen him – a trip back from college - he’d _said_ Kenma had changed. ‘It’s like you’ve peeled off that extra layer of skin you hunch into.’

“Sounds painful,” he’d tried to joke.

“Nah, it’s like it was holding you in one place. You move easier now,” Kuro had assured him, then winked. “Wriggle around a bit more and you might even start finding you enjoy being away from your room.”

He’d raised his eyebrows in a ‘ha ha not funny, Kuro’ type way, which had elicited a laugh and a slap on his back.

 

But he didn’t feel different. He was still not sure why he was here, why he’d accepted the invitation, except that when his customary weariness had jabbed at him to refuse, another voice in his head had piped up with a ‘yes’ before he’d been able to suppress it.

“KENMA!” The shriek assailed his ears, a split second before a figure slammed the brakes on his heels to land in front of him.

(A figure who had the widest of eyes, a smattering of freckles, flaming hair that shot out everyway and a half-moon smile so bright that Kenma could not help but smile tentatively back.)

“Shouyou,” he muttered, not displeased.

He couldn’t keep still, not even when standing in a crowded station, Hinata Shouyou was a mass of fidgeting, his skinny legs engaged in a twitchy kind of dance as he gabbled nineteen to the dozen in welcome. And as he scooped up Kenma’s bag - insisting he carried it across to the bus stop because ‘Mom always says travelling tires people out’ - his shoulder barged against Kenma sending him staggering back a step or two.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m still as clumsy,” he said, barely taking a breath.

“Some things don’t change,” Kenma replied, and heaved a sigh of something that he felt was very much like relief because whatever else might have changed, the dormant warmth that erupted through him when Shouyou was near – that had not changed.

The bus journey stopped short of Shouyou’s house. It was a journey Kenma remembered from before, but when he’d last visited, it had been winter, with snow thick on the ground and he’d preferred to hurry along to the welcome at the Hinata house rather than admire the view.  Today with the sun climbing higher in the sky and dappling the fresh grass with its pale yellow light, Kenma was content to walk at a slower pace, even taking his bag from Shouyou when he started to flag.

“This way,” Shouyou said, a bigger spring to his step as he darted off the road. “Short cut through the meadow.”

_Meadow._ That didn’t sound good. Used to the city, Kenma’s image of a meadow was one full of cows. Or nettles tangling around his feet, brambles scratching at his arms and legs, thorns sticking through the fabric of his hoodie. And insects, ants and wasps defending their territory with no recourse except to sting.

“Shouyou, I’d rather take the long way round,” he started to plead. And then he stopped. His breath punched clear from his body as he rounded the corner and faced the view. “Oh.”

“Huh?”

Tilting his head the side, a smile unlike any other lifted the corners of Kenma’s mouth. “It’s yellow.”

“Uh-huh. That’s the buttercups,” Shouyou replied. “It’s okay, though, ‘cause they’re wild, so we’re not disturbing anything if we walk through. Soon as you trample on ‘em, they spring right back.” He blinked at Kenma. “What were you going to say?”

“Nothing,” he breathed, and hoisting his bag securely over his shoulder, he took more steps towards the swath of ochre before him.

There was no breeze, and yet the yellow petals seemed to dance at his knees. As if they were alive, they floated and whispered an _‘usher usher usher’_ when he meandered along a makeshift path. He wanted to twirl with them, to twist and gyre in this meadow of dreams, to laugh with the sunshine as the burnished gold bushed against his skin.

Ahead of him, Shouyou was marching, keeping up a constant chat, of this and that, and what they could do with these three precious days. No awkwardness in his gait, no unease at spending time with his friend, pleasure rippling from his as he span round and round in the flickering yellow flames. And Kenma heard the plans, not just based around volleyball, but a trip to the sea, because maybe the senpais would be around, and did Kenma remember the first time they’d met and how warm it had been on that day?

_Yes, yes, I remember. I sat with my game waiting for Kuro. And you burst into view. A supernova so bright I thought I’d go blind._

“Natsu loves it here,” Shouyou was saying.  “She’s always bugging me to play hide and seek, so she might ask you, too. If that’s a problem, then tell me, right?”

“It’s not.” It wasn’t. Natsu was like another Shouyou, unembarrassed by his silences, accepting and liking him for who he was, not for what he could do.

“And she likes picking them. My mom has jam jars of buttercups all over the kitchen. Oh and don’t be worried if she does this-” He pulled at a stalk, snapping it in two and lifting one of the shining miniature suns up to his face.  Smiling he took a step towards Kenma and held the flower under his chin. “You like butter, then.”

“What?”

Pulling back, Shouyou grinned again and placed the buttercup against his own skin. “If it shines yellow, then it means you like butter,” he said, then faltered, obviously seeing something in Kenma’s expression. “It’s a dumb kids thing. Sorry.”

_It’s fine,_ Kenma meant to say, but the words didn’t fall that easily from his lips and instead he reached out and touched Shouyou’s arm and the hand holding the buttercup.  Their fingers touched. “It’s like the sun,” he murmured instead. “It’s like you.”


End file.
